


Poison and Honey

by BigBad_Wolfy



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, My First Smut, Shameless Smut, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBad_Wolfy/pseuds/BigBad_Wolfy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After arguing with Yamcha, Bulma drowns her anger in wine out on what she thinks is an unoccupied balcony. Vegeta is unprepared to have his peace and quiet interrupted. Consider this a short, one-shot that takes place during "The 3 years."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> I have dug myself out of my 12 yr hiatus. I have also managed to tie up and gag my inner censor and lock her in the barn. The following is the result of a few scattered ideas that came to me when I should have been sleeping. I managed to knit those late night drabbles togetherin to 5000 some words, with the aid of Bailey's and apple cider. By adding something green I managed to turn this into a belated responds to the WJS "Think and Drink Challege." Many, many thanks to Sasusc for beta-ing!

“I have had it with him!” Bulma shouted as she stomped over the threshold of the sliding glass door and out onto the dim patio. “No more! This is the last time!” She clamored, her bare feet slapping against the cool concrete, a half-filled wine glass in one clenched fist and a green wine bottle sloshing in the other. “I swear!” _Stomp ___. “By Kami!” _Stomp, stomp, Slosh_. “I am _not ___taking him back!” She swung out her left arm and set down the wine bottle a little too hard. The patio table rattled in protest. “This is the end!” She yelled out to the night sky and guzzled the last swallows of wine from her glass without grace.  
Bulma dropped her petite frame into a rigid lounge chair, making its feet scrape against the concrete in a high pitched squawk. Vegeta flinched at the sound. He sat, perched upon a low concrete bench, shrouded in the darkness, and out of the pale yellow light drifting out from kitchen and past the sitting room.  
  
Bulma dipped her head low, her eyes squeezed shut. A low growl hummed from her drawn lips and gritted teeth as she replayed the earlier events with Yamcha in her mind for the umpteenth time that evening. Her growl built in angered intensity and volume until it crescendo into a frustrated, fed up primal scream. She slammed her fist onto the table. The wine bottle rocked on its base and then fell over. It would have fallen and crashed to the floor had Vegeta not rushed in with inhuman speed and caught it just before it hit the concrete. He set the bottle upright on the table in front of Bulma, whose blue eyes were now wide with alarm.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Woman, would it kill you to allow me just a sliver of quiet solitude?”  
  
“Vegeta!” Bulma gasped. His sudden appearance sent her heart racing. However, she hastily recovered and channeled her fright into anger, “What the hell are you doing lurking around here in the dark like some kind of boogeyman?”  
  
“This balcony was unoccupied when I came out here.” Vegeta scoffed, affronted, “I wasn’t _lurking ___, as you so inelegantly put it.”  
  
He was shirtless and clad in his usual black training shorts, Bulma noticed. He smelled clean and freshly showered. Vegeta’s present state of dress did nothing to help calm her run away heart rate. The low light of the moon and distant kitchen light veiled him in shadows, giving him the look of a predator. His lithe, powerful yet compact build lent an air of danger, or sex appeal, or both.  
  
Her brain seemed to cease functioning. _What did he say? He wasn’t lurking? Oh. Witty response, witty response ___, her alcohol fogged mind frantically repeated.  
  
After a long awkward silence, on Bulma’s part, Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her lack of retort. He gave an imperceptible dismissive snort, then turned and walked away. He intended to head back to his room to get a few hours of sleep before he hit the gravity room again at sunrise.  
  
Bulma’s brain finally seemed to re-engage as he moved to leave. She suddenly didn’t feel like spending the evening alone with a mostly full wine bottle. Her angered outrage was cooling off as fast as hot glass in a freezer. Since she wasn’t truly in the mood to be alone and wasn’t the wallow-in-self-pity-all-by-her-lonesome type, she needed to do something before she splintered into pathetic dejection.  
  
“Hey, Vegeta, wait. You don’t have to go. You were here first. Please, stay. I won’t say another word, I promise.” She offered, as her puckered brow relaxed.  
  
Vegeta tilted his head to the side, his scowl softened just a micrometer, and he half smiled, not a smirk, but a true, honestly amused half smile. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Woman.” The sound of his voice tickled her ears and teased her skin, giving rise to promises of a more sensual kind in the back of her sloshed mind. She wasn’t sure if he knew the effect it had on her, wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose.  
  
“I can too keep quiet if I wanted!” Her already wine flushed cheeks darkened as she pushed her bottom lip out into a petulant pout. She bit back her annoyance and swallowed the insult lined up; she wasn’t going to let him push her buttons like that tonight. “Tonight I propose a truce, a ceasefire, if you will. You look like you could use friend; you’re always out here brooding all by yourself.” It was true. She had noticed that sometimes, after he spent long hours beating himself half to death each day, he would shower and then sit here, glowering up at the stars for an hour or more. Bulma would catch glimpses of him every other night. It struck her, how lonely he often looked.  
  
“I came out here to get away from you annoying humans.” Vegeta divulged, as his frown returned. He could have then turned to leave, and choose completely ignore anything else she might say but, damn, she held his attention, like she held that wine glass. The dim light veiled the movement of his gaze as it licked down her figure, lapping up her every curve. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her satiny lilac night dress. It wasn’t shorter than any other dress she wore but the way it floated on her pale thighs was pleasing and it bunched and pulled in all the right places. The cool, late summer chill did nothing to calm the flush on her cheeks but shamelessly contributed to the points of her nipples jutting out from beneath the thin fabric.  
  
He always found himself being drawn to her. It was as if she ignited something in him. It flickered to life when she was around and he found himself watching her, admiring not just her looks but her cunning when it came to all things mechanical. That flame especially roared with vigor when she dared to engage him verbally and incite him to fire off in retaliation against her intentionally provoking rhetoric. He was damned sure she did it on purpose. Why else would her eyes blaze with blue-hot passion when they argued? She enjoyed it, even when she lost and especially when she won.  
  
She moved to grab the bottle from the table. Not wanting to lose hold of her pleasurable buzz, she refilled her glass. Her dress whispered across her backside and hitched up just enough to reveal the bottom swell of her buttocks, encouraging carnal thoughts within Vegeta’s mind. She sipped her drink, leaning in slightly and pursing her soft, pink lips as if to kiss the sweet, red port as it rose from the glass to meet her. Her lashes fluttered, lids half-closing, but she kept eye contact with Vegeta.  
  
“Mmmm,” She moaned, as she imbibed. Gods, the sound went straight to his groin. Vegeta’s lips parted, his tongue edged out a bit to lick his lips. Was it possible to be jealous of a drinking vessel? She polished off the remaining nectar, “Mmm, wine is proof Kami wants women to be happy,” she sighed.  
  
Vegeta swallowed, and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Wasn’t he on his way back to his room? In an attempt to recover he “hmphed” and motioned to turn, intending to leave, again, but stopped when she reached out, already refilled glass in hand.  
  
“Here, try some.” She offered, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight.  
  
His eyes dashed up to meet hers. Her pupils were wide and dark. While the wine she drank pitched her further into drunkenness, it was her scent that he increasingly found intoxicating. She was a mix of sweet fruit, spicy alcohol and a heady, musky scent that was all her own. It was over taking him fast. He was already attracted to her soft, feminine build, and he found he could admit that and move to more important things, but normally he tried to keep his distance from her. Tonight on the other hand, so many factors worked against him. He had come to the balcony to contemplate his stagnant training away from the rest of the Briefs household, away from the eccentric professor, that silly blond mother and especially this alluring, aggravating woman.  
  
“Come on, you’ve got to taste this. You’ll love it,” She pleaded, pushing the glass toward his chest. He reached down to grab it, just to keep her from spilling it all over him. His slightly larger hand enveloped around hers, his touch was warm, firm and skin slightly rough. Something like an electric jolt tingled up the length of her arm and straight down to the juncture of her thighs.  
  
Their gazes locked. He regarded her with hard eyes, searching for any cue that might betray her hidden motive, but there was none. She was just an inebriated trollop. He leaned in closer while bringing the glass to his lips, never breaking eye contact with Bulma, and sipped the wine. She leaned in, unknowingly. When Vegeta’s keen Saiyan nose homed in on the sudden change in her scent he knew this impromptu late night conversation was taking a turn for things less wholesome than the offer of friendship.  
  
"This drink,” He said, after pulling the glass away from his lips, but not yet releasing her hand, “is fitting of you.” His voice was warm and velvety, like dark chocolate.  
  
"How so?" She breathed.  
  
"It is cloyingly sweet but one cannot miss the acerbic poison behind the honey." He sipped again; half-lidded coal black not breaking away from entranced sapphire blue.  
  
Bulma's cheeks flushed deeper red as the heat emanating from her feminine core overtook her entire body, setting her senses aflame. Too astonished to give thought to being called acerbic, Bulma’s drunken mind fixated on his back handed compliment. Did he just call her sweet and liken her to honey? With their lips already so near, she felt herself being pulled in closer still, being drawn in by this dark, surly Saiyan. Oh Kami, she wanted to kiss him! Was this the wine influencing her thoughts? Still blushing fiercely and prodded on by liquid courage she asked, "Vegeta? Do you know what a kiss is?"  
  
The Saiyan’s brows lifted, slightly, in confusion. "Is it a food? A drink? Is that what this intoxicant is called?" He asked, completely serious.  
  
Bulma tried hard to suppress a guffaw of laughter at his almost Goku-like reaction. She kept her amusement in check and let out a stifled giggle instead.  
  
"No- no." She giggled and pulled back from him, he let go of her hand and she turn away tittering. Vegeta crossed his arms, confused and unamused by her laughing at his ignorance of Earthling alcohol.  
  
Bulma tried to regain control; she took another sip of wine and busied herself with topping off the mostly full glass. _I can't believe he doesn't know what a kiss is __, she thought, _Well, I suppose I could teach him ____.  
  
She turned back to Vegeta, her mischievous eyes dancing.  
  
"Well, a kiss is," she began, placing a finger on her cheek. Her eyes darted a quick look at Vegeta and took in his closed off demeanor. Damn, she was losing him.  
  
"A kiss is something you do with someone you like."  
  
Vegeta, looked away from her and rolled his eyes. Foolish woman, he knew what a damned kiss was, however he thought perhaps it could have also been a name for a drink, like the word had a double meaning. Caught up in all of his inward grumbling he did not see Bulma's free hand reaching out to him. At the last moment, he turned when he heard her say, "a kiss is-"  
  
She cupped his chin, leaned in and kissed him.  
  
He was stunned stupid; frozen. He could not get his brain to function enough to push her away. Her lips were so soft and warm and sweet with wine. He felt his loins stir to life. And then it ended all too soon. She pulled back.  
  
While being far from inexperienced in carnal matters, he was no romantic. Who wants to kiss a whore anyway? Their existence was to simply to be a vessel for relieving pent up sexual need in its basest form. Kissing was what lovers did. So essentially Vegeta had never done such a thing; he didn’t have a need for it. Fuck a whore ‘til he came, yes; but intimately touch lips with another being no.  
  
He gaped at her, his eyes wide, mouth slack. He uncrossed his arms, stood up straight, and tried to gather his thoughts.  
  
Bulma took another swig of wine, a satisfied, smug smile upon her pretty pink lips.  
  
This kiss, this concept was not entirely unpleasant. It felt pretty damned good to be honest. As much as his instinctual need told him to just turn her ass up like a whore and fuck her until he was done he couldn't bring himself to do it. This damned ill-mannered, crazy and intriguing woman drove him insane. As vulgar as whore at times, but smart perhaps smarter than any of Freeza's scientist and sometimes brave, although often to the point of stupidity. _Oh just fuck this! ___Fuck this stupid mud ball planet and this stupid need digging at him. Could he survive another year or two of this madness? He just wanted to train, kill Kakarot and destroy earth and go back to space, where shit made sense.  
  
The sound of a distant door opening and the twinge of a familiar ki, _the beta male_ , pulled Vegeta out of his mental conundrum. The scarred human had returned from wherever he had gone earlier. Vegeta sneered. That fool probably smelled of other women again. Vegeta steeled himself against the woman’s strange pull on him, finally building up the gumption to fully turn away from her and stalked back inside.  
  
Bulma sipped as she watched the Saiyan disappear past the threshold of the sliding glass door and then past the archway that lead to bedrooms. While she might have liked to have company to keep her from sulking alone, she had to admit, she didn’t mind watching him leave.  
  
“I guess my womanly charms were just too much for you, my dear Prince.”

 

Neither Bulma nor Vegeta could get the other out of their thoughts for the remainder of the night. Bulma spent the next hour sipping another 2 glasses of wine as she mulled over the mysterious dark Saiyan. By the time Yamcha worked up enough resolve to confront her she was passed out in the lawn chair. He ended up carrying her back to her room only to be thanked with another verbal ass-chewing in the morning.  
  
Vegeta lay awake, staring at the ceiling in his barren room. His mind’s eye tried to recreate that perfectly tempting way Bulma’s night dress draped over her breasts, with the perky buds of her nipples protruding out, begging to be touched. The taste of her wine sweet lips burned in his memory and her intoxicating scent teased him, making him high with desire, making him want another nip of her. Fuck! He rolled over in frustration, erection straining at his pajama bottoms. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight was he?

 

Another day, come and gone; another unproductive self-flagellation in the gravity room was done. Vegeta stood on the dim balcony, hands set wide on the low metal railing, shoulders slumped. He sighed deeply. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! ___He could not concentrate during training. This was it! This had to be it! Fuck the woman, get it over with, get it out of his system, and get her out of his head so that he could concentrate on the important things like killing cyborgs and Kakarot and getting off this damned backwater planet.  
  
He heard her steps behind him. He stood up straight, arms at his side. It was now or never.  
  
"Um, hey, Vegeta,” she stood beside him, an open can in hand, "fancy meeting you here." Her voice was uneven with discomfort, but normal; not nearly as drunk as the other night.  
  
"No wine this time." He noted, objectively, voice toneless.  
  
"Nope," Bulma lifted her can slightly in indication, "No. More of a beer kinda night I guess. I was working on some work stuff in the kitchen and felt it was time for some fresh air and hey, here you are." She finished a little clumsily, still feeling embarrassed by her drunken kiss ambush she waylaid him with last time. She planned on keeping her words neutral tonight; she didn't want to scare him away, again. She wanted to befriend him, not push him away. For now she would have to shove her growing attraction to him aside, into the back of her mind.  
  
The two stood in long, uncomfortable silence. Bulma held her can with both hands, feeling uncertain what to do with them, lest she try to touch him again. She sipped, and in the still quiet of the cool night it seemed as loud as a hydro pump.  
  
Maybe she should apologize. _“Oh, Veggie, totes sorry I tried to kiss you. I was drunk. Couple that with fact that I can't keep my hands off hot guys, and yeah, well, you know.” ___  
  
Vegeta’s eyes darted to the side to catch a glimpse of Bulma. She couldn't keep herself from fidgeting.  
  
"Um, hey, I, uh, just wanted get this outta the way.” Her hand involuntarily reaching for the back of her head, she prattled out, “I'msorryItriedtokissyou." She gulped downed the rest of her beer and turned to go back inside. "Um, I guess that's enough fresh air for one night." Her arms reached up in a phony stretch.  
  
"Foolish woman," Vegeta said, unmoved from his spot.  
  
Bulma stopped, her head swiveling back looked at him. He gave her sideways glance. "I know what a kiss is."  
  
"Oh," she said lamely, her arms dropping to her sides, "I didn't- it sounded like." She reached up a hand to nervously rub the back of her head, eyes downcast. She heard his bare feet scrape against the concrete as her stalked up to her. She looked up and he reach out to take hold of her chin. She looked at him wide-eyed as he leaned in.  
  
_Now or never ___, Vegeta thought. And he kissed her.  
  
Her lips were soft and pliant against his. At first she was stunned, made immobile by surprise, but then she melted into him. He cupped her chin with one hand and reached around with the other to gently grasp the small of her back.  
  
"Mmmm," Bulma moaned. All of her circuits firing at once. Electric shocks skittered all over the surface of her skin. She felt as if she were dissolving into a heaping mush of feeling.  
  
He pulled her closer, overcome by the heat of the moment; blood rushing straight to his groin. His pulse thrummed out a wild drumbeat, whether due to arousal or due to nervous excitement, he didn’t know. He didn’t care.  
  
One of his hands ventured under her satiny camisole.  
  
_Oh gods!_ Bulma thought, _please don’t stop! ___  
  
His rough fingertips brushed the crease of her breast and she shivered. Beer can now long forgotten, she dropped it. The aluminum clatter did not register to either of their ears. Bulma reached up to rest her hands on his chest. She kissed him back harder, more fervent. And when her brain came fully back online she kissed with gusto, slipping her tongue into his mouth, startling the Saiyan momentarily with her bold move. His eyes shot open, signifying that this was a bit new to him. He was quick to recover and mimicked her ministrations. One of his hands slipped down the small of her back to cup her ass with an ungentle squeeze. Their tongues battled. He pulled her flush to him and she moaned when she felt his hardness against her soft center.  
  
_Oh gods! ___She thought, again. She wanted him in her now! Vegeta was of the same mind. Both hands now full of ass lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She moaned into his mouth as she ground her hips down onto his hardened cock.  
  
Eventually they had to break away from one another to catch their breaths, but they lost no beat and moved on to other parts. Vegeta mouth pounced at Bulma's neck, sucking and licking, causing her to pant and moan hot breaths into his ear between her nibbling.  
  
He held her firm with one hand as the other slipped between the two of them to push her panties aside. She was wet. "Fuck," he muttered against her skin, and then slipped a finger into her hot, wet folds. Bulma gasped, caught off guard; she might have nipped his earlobe a bit too hard as a result, but he couldn't tell, at this point it all felt so damned good. He slipped in another finger and pumped into her.  
  
"Oh!” She cried out as she rode him. But that wasn't enough. She needed more. She needed him!  
  
"I want _you ___, now!" She gasped, "Oh, gods, please put it in!"  
  
He smirked into her neck. A man could get addicted to this, to making a woman so wild and wanton. Sure he thought her unrefined and called her out for it, especially when in public, but truth be told he was no innocent, and he was not one to miss _any ___opportunity to rib her.  
  
"Vulgar woman," he growled into her ear. His low rumble only served to stoke her fire and she ground against his hand. She whimpered. Her entire body shook and trembled when she brushed her clit against his knuckle. "Right there!" She did it again, and again, crying out louder with each twinge of white hot pleasure.  
  
Vegeta took notice of this, feeling the small firm nub rub his knuckle. Apparently stroking this little button was pleasurable. A wicked idea came to mind.  
  
He set her down on a lounge chair next to the patio table. Bulma mewled slight in disappointment, having been on the verge of climaxing.  
  
On her back she watched as Vegeta settled himself between her legs, a predatory gaze upon his features. He reached for her hips and tore her soaked strawberry patterned panties from her waist and then took her swollen folds in his fingers. He gently parted her succulent flesh to reveal her pink pearl. He licked his lips in hungry anticipation.  
  
Bulma looked on, eyes set afire with passion, impatient for his next move. _Is he going to do what I think he is going to do ___, she thought.  
  
Vegeta flicked her perky nub with the pad of his thumb.  
  
She gasped and bucked. His lips drew back into a devilish grin. This would be fun.  
  
He pushed his thumb into her wet center, breaching her opening and soaking it in her juices. He then glided the now wet digit across her clit. She canted her hips into his motion and clenched her fist around the side of the lounge chair. He slicked his thumb across her nub again, and again, delighting in watching her raise her hips, and taking in her moans each time he did so. He imagined the glory of finally sinking his cock into her. But not yet, he wasn’t done playing.  
  
With his left hand he rubbed slow circles around her most sensitive flesh and with his right he glided two fingers into her. She panted, and sighed, and bucked. “Mmmm, Vegeta…” She tried to speak but pleasure clouded her thoughts and she trailed off with a moan. Each time he nudged her sensitive bud an electric shock rocked her. Each time he withdrew his fingers she drove herself back down, overcome with the need to be filled. One of her hands reached up from where they grasped the chair’s cushion, and moved to cup her own breast. Her fingers found her pointed nipples. Vegeta’s eyes darted up when he caught her movement. She kneaded her pale breasts and ran her fingers over her rosy points. The action was arousing and he wanted in on the action.  
  
He shifted to hover over her, withdrawing his left hand and repositioning it to rest it on the cushion, by her hip. He continued to finger her with his right, but now his hips hovered above hers and his hot mouth drifted within reach of the rosy pebbles she played with.  
  
Bulma’s eyes fluttered opened. Her baby blues, clouded with desire, met Vegeta’s coal black gaze. Rather than the usual scowl she saw half lidded and barely contained lust. His lips parted, and his eyes turned down to her chest. He ducked down and captured a pearled bud in his lips and flicked his tongue against it. He continued to finger her but rubbed circles around her clit with his thumb. He sucked at her point and flicked his tongue, growing more frantic. He was losing control, and fast. Bulma’s free hand reached to grasp the short spikes at his nape.  
  
They spiraled down into a frenzied storm of feeling, and wave upon wave of pleasure crashed upon them. It was as if a dam had broken and all of the pent up desire was let loose in a deluge. It swept them both away, until the neither could stand it a moment longer.  
  
“Now!” Bulma cried.  
  
“Not yet!” He panted.  
  
“Now, please!” She let go of her breasts and reached to grasp his cock, forcing his training shorts down his lean hips. He pushed them down the rest of the way and tossed them aside with no care as to where they landed.  
  
He groaned as she yanked on him, trying to pull him into her, but when he bucked toward her opening he stopped. “Not yet!” And he redoubled his ministrations on her nub. He flicked and she cried out, and quivered. He rubbed, fast, determined circles around her button and she whimpered, “fuck!” She arched her back, tilting her hips into him. He ducked down, and set his hot mouth over her bud and lapped feverishly. Bulma could stand it no longer. Her walls clenched around his fingers, and wet juice flowed from her.  
  
“Y-You fuck-ing ass-“she panted, and was immediately cut off as he shoved his hard cock into her throbbing, wet pussy.  
  
“Fuck!” she called out as he pumped into her.  
  
“Fuck!” she cried and grasped hard at his hair, without regard to whether it hurt him or not.  
  
“Fuck me!” she screamed, pussy still quivering, as he drilled himself into her.  
  
“Harder!” she pleaded. He wanted to let go completely, but he did not want to hurt the fragile human.  
  
She panted into his ear, in time with each thrust, “fuck, fuck, fuck” he mumbled, as he pounded into her. Gods, it had been years since his drove his dick into a hot, willing female. He was lost in the moment. Lost in her warmth and wetness. Nothing else mattered now but the searing hot, tightness wrapped around him.  
  
Her walls squeezed again, and surged in waves as she came again. She griped him hard, her fingers digging into his back, leaving little red half-moons. He drove into her until he was sent over the edge, calling out his release with an animalistic roar. Both his hands clenched each edge of the lawn chair. Metal crunched under his grip. His cock pulsed and gushed his hot seed into her. He buried his head into her breast, and groaned in pleasure. After a while he was left gasping not from physical exertion but from orgasm, long overdue. His grip on the lawn chair did not let up as he pumped into her slowly, savoring the feel of her around him. His head was in a haze. No coherent thought could be formed at the moment. It was like being nestled in a warm, comforting cloud. Nothing could harm him. Nothing else existed outside of this lusty fog.  
  
He drew in a breath and released it in a long contented sigh. His eyelids drooped closed. And he relaxed, letting his weight fall onto to the unsuspecting woman.  
  
“Mmmph!” Bulma was jerked out of her post orgasmic bliss.  
  
“You’re too heavy!” She pushed on his chest ineffectively. “Vegeta!”  
  
Hearing her say his name snapped him back to the present and he pushed himself off her. He looked down at her taking in her moonlit, sweat soaked figure. She shimmered with an angelic glow. All of a sudden the cool night air breezed a chill over him. He pulled out her warmth with regret and sat up.  
  
He fucked her. Now what? For a moment he had felt bathed in satisfaction. But now as he came to his senses he felt- he felt vulnerable.  
  
He looked down at her. Her eyes were still closed. Her hands had slipped from his back to loosely grasp his hips.  
  
"Mmmm." She sighed in satisfaction.  
  
_Time to retreat ___, he thought. He quickly found his discarded shorts and hastily yanked them on.  
  
Bulma’s eyes drifted open. Vegeta’s abrupt, agitated withdrawal left her feeling self-conscious. The night chill nipped at her bare skin and she felt naked, not because she had somewhere lost her panties but because she had accidentally made eye-contact with Vegeta as he dressed. She saw his regret; it had to be guilt when his eyes wouldn’t meet hers.  
  
Making eye contact made what had happened real. How do you save yourself, after something like this?  
  
Her eyes darted around the dim patio floor and she spotted her torn panties under the table.  
  
"I, uh, have to get back to work," she mumbled, and quickly ducked and grabbed her discarded underwear. She bunched them up in her fist and scrambled off swiftly, to clean up, hoping she wouldn't embarrassingly drip all over the place. She was gone before he had a chance to enact his own escape, which would have been nothing more than him walking away, without a word, back to his room.  
  
Vegeta stood there, under the full moon, staring out at the brightly lit West City skyline. He closed eyes and thought of her warmth wrapped around him.  
  
"Damn." He swore, his breath a heavy, defeated sigh. He knew he had to have her again. He would. He would make damned sure of that!


End file.
